This is a recent feature added to my Facebook fan page — just a little fun to try your hand at surviving horror scenarios. If you would like more, please join me on Facebook.
Author: Editor
river
It happened again this morning. And sometimes I think, ‘your words will flow into my heart.’ My adder tongue rests in my mouth as I refuse to turn my rage on you like the Ripper’s blade. Splitting a chasm deeper than these years of erosion. Yet the river of your tongue flows, source…
Linear Friendship
you did not know that too much wine makes me talkative, yet you call yourself my friend. you have never read a single line of my poetry or fiction, yet you call yourself my friend. your thoughts are an empty column. (my thoughts spill across pages, ones you have not read.) your conservative views enrage…
White-washing the world: trying to handle race in your fiction (if you’re white)
Pick up a book. Almost any book. If it’s a white character, does the author ever say “white”—or is it just assumed? One difficulty (for me) when writing a character of a race (other than white) is that you have to be so blatant about it—because white is assumed. Racial identity is much more than…
Character motivation: a brief thought
Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water. —Kurt Vonnegut Knowing your character’s motivation, while seeming simple, isn’t always easy. First, different scenes will have different motivation. For example, in a murder mystery, the main motivation of the protagonist will be to solve the mystery. In another scene, the…
Autumn
autumn spreads its back like a calico cat. the trees and grasses blush under its cooling kisses. the night pulls down in lines of blue chasing red, as campfire light bursts embers into the crackling air. the welcome colors pull in around you with the warmth and comfort of your grandmother’s patchwork quilt. I wrote…
In the woods
In the woods, we made peace. A day spent together, a 10-mile hike. Stop to gaze: a herd of deer, in a glade—30, 40, 50? The path washed out by flooding, stuck in the mud, and laughing. The sun kept time overhead: counting out chatter, dreams, secrets, laughter, plans. I remember how you could tell…
summer
grass made green, burned brown. rivulets filled, cracked dry. heat begged, cursed. summer song reaches its crescendo as we sigh welcome to the first cool nights. I wrote this draft as part of National Poetry Writing Month. I hope to collect these works for a mixed media/writing piece I am working on entitled Love…
Early Spring Mornnig
periwinkle crowns peek through the melting snow. fog spreads full like a nesting bird on a snowy branch, shivering, shivering. your breath hovers, gray upon gray, making the purple-headed blooms brighter still. I wrote this draft as part of National Poetry Writing Month. I hope to collect these works for a mixed media/writing piece I…
ADRIANLILLY.COM 